Patriot

The pain of pride and ache to cry, ​
For those old soldiers, marching by, ​
Now fragile in their marching pride, ​
Whose age worn faces cannot hide​
Scenes of battle burned on mind
And youthful comrades left behind.

Old soldiers hold the marching line​
Advancing, never marking time, ​
On wheels and foot, their number dwindles
Yet together find their passion kindled
As brave hearts answer to the call​
Knowing soon they too will fall.

So share their pride and ache to cry, ​
As the last old soldiers pass on by.​